Himni simply stared at his friend, or at least the creature that had once been his friend. He was unsure what to make of what he now saw. The skull was definitely that of an orc, closer inspection showing it to be not quite a skull. Rather it was the flesh drawn tighter than natural, a ghastly and unwholesome cast to it. Where the deep orbs has once said blazed motes of blue fire. Each detail hit Himni like a blow from a mace. What had happened? Why had... finally, unable to bear it, the sin'dorei cast his gaze to the ground.
"I saw you die..." he murmured softly, "no one could have survived that."
"I didn't elf, that I promise you. I died that day, drowned beneath the massive waves that flooded Thousand Needles."
"Then... how... I..."
A voice cut him off, a voice that didn't belong to the imposing figure in plate armor, but a softer voice. One that came from behind them.
"You didn't think I'd leave my brother's body at the bottom of those canyon's did you paladin? It took you weeks to even start looking, if there was any hope of reviving him, we had to act fast."
Himni spun to face where the source of that voice, and watched as a lean orc melted out of the shadows. The young orc was of a deep green skin, and spun two daggers, one in each hand, with practiced ease.
"Dorchacht." The plated figure said sternly.
"Revive him? What in the Nether are you talking about? He was dead! He just said so himself, what are you talking about? By the time I could have gotten to Thousand Needles I wouldn't even have been able to ressurect him!"
"You paladins, you think in such black or white terms. You think of death... or of life. You don't consider a middle ground."
The young paladin sucked in his breath between his teeth, staring at the figure of what had once been his friend, "Forsaken?"
The massive form shook his head, turning to once again stare out over the Molten Front. In the distance a band of intrepid adventurer's had brought down a hulking behemoth. The former orc watched the group celebrate, and those orbs were suddenly shielded by eyelids as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"No elf, not Forsaken. My brother has no affiliation with Sylvannas, but there are others..."
Himni eyed the rogue for a moment, and then turned back to the hulking figure, "Mograine."
"Yes elf, Mograine. I'm a Death Knight, sworn to the Knights of the Ebon Blade."
"Zuul, I..."
Those fiery orbs darkened and the imposing Death Knight glared at the blood elf.
"That name... holds no meaning for me any longer. When I died..." his voice grew soft and distant, almost husky, "I was with the Ancestors. I spoke with them, I walked with them. I saw my mother,"
"Your mother? You saw her?"
The big orc nodded gravely, once more turning away from his friend, "For just a moment, and in that moment she told me my true name. The one she gave me when I was born, before I was taken from her."
Himni's mouth hung agape. He was completely unsure how to respond, how to even behave. Was this his friend? How much had his... transformation altered who he was. It took him a moment to grasp what the orc was saying, and then, with a deep breath, he queried.
"What was it? The name?"
The burly death knight turned back to face the friend who'd been by his side for so long. The fire in his eyes was muted, almost soft, and as he spoke it was with a quiet calm.
"Reknar."
No comments:
Post a Comment